The Love We Give
by avalanchecity
Summary: Set months after the events of "Book of Secrets", the story follows Riley & Ben, who have taken a break from their friendship. However, an offer to teach at Georgetown sends Ben searching for a new treasure, and a twist of fate brings the friends together again. With a focus on Riley's past, "The Love We Give" chronicles their hunt for meaning, love, and the elusive third treasure.
1. Love Is Beginning (Chapter 1)

_Love is beginning_

_We have found something worth living for_

_I've got my head in the clouds_

_Oh my love, love is beginning now_

- **Love Is Beginning, Imaginary Friend**

The sun rose quietly over the parliament buildings, illuminating the grey sky with a warm, golden glow. With the light came an awakening - Washington was just beginning to buzz with commuting congressmen and enthusiastic tourists.

Just off Capitol Hill, Riley Poole awoke in his 8th story, dishevelled apartment to the sound of his phone ringing. He tossed and turned beneath his mangled sheets, hitting his hand on the cold metal frame of the futon. Mumbling profanities, he attempted to bury himself deeper into the tangled mass of blankets. The phone was silent for a moment, and then picked up its incessant ringing once more.

"Damn it," Riley sighed, feeling around the mattress for his cell. After a few seconds of blind scrambling, he opened his eyes and squinted as the brilliant light of the sunrise shone through his open window. Managing to adjust to the brightness, Riley realized with dread that he'd left his phone on the other side of his makeshift bedroom/living area. Cursing as he stumbled out of bed hours before his usual wake up time, he shuffled past his faded table, scooping up last night's coffee as he did so. By the time he reached his cluttered desk, he'd already downed half a cup of cold caffeine.

"H-hello?" Riley fumbled as he picked up his phone.

He recognized the voice of Marcus, his amateur business manager and old undergraduate classmate, on the line. "Look, hey Riley. I know it's early - and I'm sorry - but I've got a man here, a potential client for you. His PC just crashed and he could really use some help recovering the files-"

"Nope." Riley cut off his friend. "No new clients. I have enough already, sorry."

"You barely have ten. If I'm honest, I don't know how you're scraping by, man. I think you could really use this." Marcus sounded insistent.

Riley was groggy. "Thanks for the call, but I'm fine. I'm developing my own software, remember? That takes time."

"Well, I hope that pans out. Just let me know when you're ready to take more people on, okay? It's useless for me to refer clients to you, only for you to decline every time."

"Yeah, sure," Riley sighed. "Thanks. Bye."

Frustrated, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he finished the rest of the coffee. There was no way he'd be able to function outside of his apartment before noon, let alone fix a guy's computer. Besides, he'd been staying in nearly all day recently, often referring clients to friends. His GPS software, which he was modelling after work he'd done while searching for the Templar Treasure, was his main focus. However, even that was being pushed aside in favour of daytime television, veggie pizza, and video games on a scratched DS.

While Riley's apartment was a far cry from some of the hotel rooms he'd experienced while treasure hunting, it was very much home for him now. The single bedroom bachelor suite served as his business office, kitchen, entertainment centre, and sleeping accommodation. The futon doubled as both a couch and bed, while an old vanity salvaged from a thift store was used as his desk and office. Miscellaneous electronics were scattered everywhere, and power cords and chargers littered every surface. It'd been weeks since he had changed his sheets, and over a month since the room had been dusted or vaccuumed. His kitchen table, originally part of an outdoor patio set, was in chaos: an open jar of Nutella rested atop two empty pizza boxes, while cracker crumbs and half-eaten pieces of toast completed the mess. Every glass and dish that Riley owned was piled up in the rusty sink, while the paper plates and plastic forks that poked out of various garbage bags proved he had resorted to disposable options.

Used to tuning out the mess of his surroundings, Riley turned back to his bed, fully prepared to crawl back in beneath the blankets. Instead, he caught sight of the early morning sunrise that was painting the sky outdoors a stunning golden orange. Despite his reservations about being awake at such an unreasonable hour, he followed the pretty glow through his cracked glass sliding door and onto the balcony outside. Strangely captivated, Riley sunk into one of the faded patio chairs he`d haphazardly decorated with, which matched the floral pattern of his kitchen table, as they`d once belonged to the same set.

He couldn`t help but break into a grin as he watched the sun illuminate his city, waking the citizens and energizing the air. Riley knew that out there, in Washington, shops were opening, museum tours would be starting soon, and the first surge of morning commuters were just about to take over the highways and train stations. From his vantage point, he witnessed the lights inside his favourite bakery turn on, several students from his building rush off to class, and the usual neighbourhood homeless man set up shop on a nearby corner, likely hoping for change or even just a cup of coffee.

Riley was suddenly struck with how beautiful the morning was, something he usually wasn`t awake to appreciate. Even the most gorgeous sunrise could never beat a few extra hours of sleep, but this was different. He felt empowered for the first time in weeks, hopeful even. Today was a day in which something exciting could happen. You could meet someone new, complete a project, be whisked away on an adventure.

As he sat there, contemplating the city and enjoying the crisp fresh air, his thoughts turned to memories from years ago. How many mornings had he been up to see the sun rise during college? Too many to count. He'd often have gone without sleep, working through the night on some challenging paper, line of code, or...clue. Ben had awoken him at all hours with news of developments in their search for the Charlotte, often repaying him with a breakfast sandwich, which they'd usually share on Ben's balcony. It wasn't too different from a morning like this.

Somewhere out there, not far from the city, Riley knew Ben was wide awake, going for a jog with Abigail or preparing for an early business meeting. Surely he'd already had his breakfast, no doubt an elaborate meal prepared by his girlfriend. Riley knew what it was like to watch the sun rise from their home in Chevy Chase, as he'd done so many times through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the main guest room. It was beautiful, but solitary. Here, he felt as though he was sharing the experience with the entire city, watching as Washington came to life.

It had been a long time since he'd felt connected to anyone. He'd spent most of his time barricaded in his apartment over the past few months, telling himself that it was to work on his software, but usually simply procrastinating with pathetic delaying tactics. Video games, spreading Nutella on anything edible, and reading his old college textbooks had become his favourite pasttimes. When he did have to work, he'd do his best to talk a client through a computer problem on the telephone, never having to leave the comfort of his bed. He wasn't happy, exactly, but he was complacent. Eventually he would complete the software, meet people and develop a circle of friends, and leave the apartment for more interesting reasons than picking up food. Until then, well, he was getting by.

The brilliant colours of the sunrise began to fade as the world welcomed the new day. Riley reached for one of many newspapers he'd left strewn about on the patio, ignoring the waterlogged ones. The issue he grabbed was from three weeks ago; not really caring, Riley began to lazily flip through the pages. When he made it to the lifestyle section, he suddenly remembered that this was the paper he'd meant to throw out. A huge photo of Ben and Abigail took up nearly half a page, in which they were smiling as they cut a ribbon outside the new exhibit at the National Archives. The article detailed how Ben had used his connections to help bring ancient Chinese scrolls to the museum, while Abigail had facilitated and planned the transportation and preservation of the documents.

Riley sighed, throwing the paper down beside him. It still stung a little to see how well Ben was doing without him, all smiles and productivity. But what had he expected - that his friend would completely shut down and put his entire life on hold? Rationally, Riley knew that that just wasn't reasonable. But he had expected Ben to show a little sadness, or trouble coping. Instead, he'd done the complete opposite. Ben's face, usually accompanied by Abigail's, was everywhere from newspapers to television interviews to historical magazines. He was on fire, landing important deals for the National Archives, helping with research on ancient paintings at Georgetown, and even leading a kid's amateur diving class. Ben had never been more successful or highly respected.

Six months ago, Riley had decided to distance himself from his long-time friend. Ben had been spending more and more time with Abigail ever since their discovery of the second treasure. Feeling like a neglected third wheel, he'd gone to Ben and explained that he thought they should take some time apart to develop personal interests. He'd never actually expected Ben to go for it. He'd thought that his friend would simply apologize, explain that he never meant to shut Riley out, and vow to do better. But instead, Ben had simply accepted Riley's proposition and declared that maybe some time apart would be good for them both. After everything they'd been through together, from college at MIT to years of chasing down clues, that hurt.

It made sense to put some space between himself and Ben, he knew that. Abigail wasn't going anywhere; in fact, they seemed to be getting closer all the time. The days of his and Ben's two person team were over. College was simply a memory now, as Ben had too many responsibilities to stay up all night before taking Riley out for pancakes at 4 am. Treasure hunting even seemed to be a thing of the past, as Ben now focused on more academically respected pursuits. They'd never again be best friends, partners in crime, attached at the hip. It wasn't Riley and Ben against the world anymore. Riley was alone, and he recognized that.

Besides, their close relationship couldn't have lasted forever. Ben had to grow up at some point, get married, have children. They couldn't act like college kids for their entire lives. Riley had tried to accept that over the past few months, to realize that everything good must come to an end. He'd attempted to move on, and pursue his own goals. But losing his best friend hadn't been that simple. It didn't happen just once, the day he walked out of Ben's life. It happened again every time he came across an old letter, filled with inside jokes, every time he encountered an ancient family heirloom in the homes of his clients, and every time he picked up a pizza and ate it in front of the television, alone. Losing Ben hadn't simply been a moment in his past; it was an onging, active part of his life that he had to face every single day.

That said, as much as it hurt to lose Ben, Riley was almost glad that it had happened when it did, instead of years down the road. He didn't know if he would be capable of letting go of his friend if they'd had even more memories together. And the truth was, whether Riley wanted to accept it or not, Ben was gone. Even if he clung to their friendship with everything he had, Ben had moved on. Letting him go was simply about keeping whatever dignity Riley had left. And this way, at least they could text each other every now and then with a holiday greeting or friendly pleasantry. The Ben that Riley missed, the one from college, was no where to be found; he'd been replaced by Abigail's Ben, the guy who attended gallery openings, fancy brunches, and ribbon-cutting ceremonies. Still, even receiving a short message from his changed friend was better than nothing.

Riley sighed and forced himself out of the rusted patio chair. It was now fully light outside, as the sun had taken its usual place high above the city. Nothing beautiful can last, he reminded himself as he mourned the golden colours. It was time to start being a person and attempt to accomplish something worthwhile.

As he headed inside, he realized that the newspaper article had eroded his rare energy boost, and his hopeful thoughts were long gone. Still, he was up early for once, so he decided to try his hand at working on the GPS software.

Reluctantly, he plopped down in his cheap office outlet swivel chair, causing it to sink down a few inches. Riley didn't bother to adjust it, knowing the same thing would only happen again. He opened the online journalling program he'd been using to store notes on the development of the software, which he'd started compiling 6 years ago, just as he'd finished college. The notes were disorganized and jumbled; he'd simply jotted down ideas whenever he felt inspired. The bulk of it was written in the months leading up to the Charlotte discovery, as he'd developed a similar program which had led Ben's team to the Arctic Circle.

If Riley was being honest, one of the reasons he'd been so reluctant to get to work on the GPS program was because the notes depressed him. They contained not only his ideas, but Ben's as well. While Riley covered the technical side of things, his friend had offered advice on what people need from their software and what functions the program should have. It could be great, he knew, if he could only muster the resolve to put it together.

For the rest of the morning, Riley forced himself to pour over the notes, trying to make sense of and organize whatever he could. He worked through the morning, completing more in one sitting than he had in the past two weeks, combined. Determined to not end up as a total failure, he paused only to dash out to the slightly run-down bakery on the corner for a cinnamon roll that served as lunch.

Thankful that none of his usual clients were experiencing computer woes, he made use of the peace and quiet, and continued working all afternoon. Fuelled by his desire to accomplish something on his own, as Ben had been doing, he remained focused and diligent. By 5 pm, he was exhausted and desperately in need of a break. Still, he felt more productive than he had in a long time.

Riley made his way to the futon, careful not to trip on the wires that were scattered across the floor. He lay down, and breathed out an exhausted sigh. As much as he wanted to finish the software, he couldn't help but wonder if it was all that remained of his and Ben`s friendship. And what next - what would he do after this? So many ideas had come from being out in the world, treasure hunting and gathering clues. Soon he'd be out of touch with the technology that trekkers and hikers were looking for.

By the time his cell rang twenty minutes later, Riley had worked himself into another mental funk. Annoyed, hungry, and devoid of energy, he picked up the phone.

"Look Marcus, I can't take on anyone new right now, okay? The software-"

"Riley?"

There was no mistaking that voice. Taken aback, Riley stuttered, "B-b-Ben?"

"I'm sorry to phone you out of the blue like this. It seems like you were expecting another call. You can get back to me later, it's not a problem."

"No! No, don't hang up." Riley was surprised at his own surge of emotion. Embarrassed, he continued: "Look, no, it's fine. We can talk. What do you need?"

"Are you sure?" Ben sounded uncharacteristically awkward, but his voice was still comfortingly familiar. "I know it's been a while."

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm fine. What's up?" Riley asked.

"This might sound strange, but it's really good to hear your voice."

Riley smiled absently - Ben sounded like the Ben he knew. His Ben. "It's good to hear yours, too."

"I'm calling because I need to ask you something, Riley," Ben began. "But I think I need to see you. Would you be willing to meet? I know what we agreed on -"

"Yes! Yes, let's meet up," Riley blurted out without thinking. "I mean, if it's what you think is best."

"Alright, if you're sure." Ben paused for a moment. "Where would you like to meet - what's convenient for you?"

"I haven't eaten yet. Are you up for pancakes?"

Riley heard Ben's laugh, and he automatically smiled in response. "I should have known. Same place as always?"

"Of course," Riley said. "Meet you there in an hour?"

"Yes, sure." Just when it seemed as though Ben was going to hang up, he continued. "Thank you for taking my call, and agreeing to meet me. I know you don't have to, and you're probably busy."

"Anything for a friend!" Riley managed to say, the reality of what Ben was asking for finally sinking in. Before they could discuss anything further, Riley signed off: "See you soon."

Slightly shaken, Riley hung up. He hadn't spoken to Ben in over five months, much less grabbed a meal with him. Why now? Why today? And what did this mean for them? Trying to calm himself down, Riley reasoned that Ben must just be checking in on him and wanting to catch up. Afterwards, they would go back to their new normal. Even ex best friends go out for pancakes, right?

Riley briefly wondered if he had the strength to see Ben again. He'd spent months losing him in multiple ways. Meeting up with him would only bring that on again, and force Riley to start the healing process all over. Ben must have known that; he seemed hesitant to ask for a meet up. And yet he did - meaning that something beyond a desire for a quick chat must have been behind his decision. But was Ben's request worth months of emotional wreckage? Riley didn't know if he would have the ability to walk away from his friend again. That would mean becoming Ben's third wheel once more, pushed out of plans and left out of invitations, forever struggling to hang on.

He put his head in his hands and exhaled deeply, frustrated and confused. Just as he was about to text Ben to cancel, he looked up and really saw his apartment for the first time in weeks. It was a pigsty; a mess of wires, half-eaten food, garbage, and dirty clothes. What was he trying to preserve? This half-life that he'd fallen into? It was a shadow of who he'd once been, who he knew he was capable of being. He'd been convincing himself that it was better this way, that being alone wouldn't hurt forever, but he wasn't getting any better. Even after today's spark of hope, he'd still struggled to get through his old notes. He was a shell of a person, capable only of procrastination and avoidance. He realized that he would never get the software finished, because it reminded him too much of what he'd lost. Riley now lacked the ability to face anything, to confront his feelings or memories. He simply wasn't the same with Ben at the edges of his life. Even if his friend wanted nothing to do with him after their meeting, at least he could ask a few questions and get some semblance of closure. Either way, it was more than he had now.

The digital clock on his kitchen table alerted him to the fact that there were twenty minutes left before he had to leave the apartment, if he wanted to make it on time. Suddenly flustered, Riley rushed into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He was horrified when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror: unshaven face, sweaty, grungy t-shirt, raccoon-like dark circles, and messy, unkempt hair. Terrified of letting Ben see him in such a state, he jumped in the shower as quickly as possible. Afterwards, he shaved, and then attempted to dry and style his hair, which resulted in something incredibly similar to the bedhead he'd been sporting all day. He made a mad dash for his dresser, throwing clothes on the floor behind him as he searched for something decent to wear. Out of time, he settled on comfortable jeans and an old but respectable tshirt, which he hid with a newer blazer.

Riley hurriedly took the building's groaning elevator to the lobby, where he rushed out and headed for the metro station. The diner where he'd be meeting Ben was in Georgetown, close to his friend's old post-college apartment. They had shared that place for over a year after graduating together from MIT, Riley with his Bachelors in Computer Science, and Ben with his graduate degree in mechanical engineering.

After swiping his DC Metro pass, Riley boarded the first subway train to the Georgetown stop, directly downtown. He'd tried his hand at living in Georgetown after the discovery of the Templar Treasure - he had bought an upscale townhouse in the richest part of the area. It had been his home for two years, but after finding the ancient Aztec treasure in Mount Rushmore and Ben and Abigail's reconciliation, he'd given up that way of life. Riley had been living in his one-bedroom apartment ever since, located in a slightly run-down neighbourhood not far from the parliament buildings on Capitol Hill.

Riley exited the subway after a few stops, climbing the stairs back up above ground. A brisk wind chilled the early October air, scattering fallen leaves along the pavement. The sun was beginning its evening descent, and Riley couldn't help but smile, knowing that he'd witnessed its rise that morning. Yet as he walked along the busy sidewalk, past shops and restaurants, nerves started to kick in. He hadn't seen Ben in months, and his lack of time to prepare for their meeting confirmed the fact that he wasn't going to look his best. By the time Riley reached his favourite diner, his stomach was in knots.

As usual, he was a few minutes late. Ben was already there, seated at the infamous post-college table they'd occupied so many times after late nights. The entire diner was decorated in neon colours and fluorescent lights, with black and white tiled floors and posters of 60's stars on the walls. Ben waved Riley over, a huge grin on his face. Riley felt his nerves melt away, falling into the familiar sense of comfort that always accompanied the presence of a good friend. As he approached the table, Ben got up and wrapped him in a giant hug.

"Mhmf - nice to see you too!" Riley laughed as his voice was muffled by Ben's jacket.

After Ben finally pulled away, they both sat down at the booth, facing each other. "Wow," Ben grinned. "You look exactly the same."

"Is that an insult or a compliment?" Riley was teasing.

"You know I love anything that can stand the test of time," Ben smiled. "So, how have you been?"

In an attempt to remain calm, Riley filed each individual emotion away for later processing. It was the only way to keep his composure and stop himself from going insane in front of Ben. "I've been fine - good, yeah. I'm doing freelance electronics repair and working on some GPS software."

"Really?" Ben seemed intrigued. "Is that the program I helped you with while we were searching for the Charlotte?"

"Yep. I finally decided to start developing it," Riley explained.

"God, you're lucky." Ben sighed wistfully as a waitress approached their table.

Riley was too taken aback to place an order when prompted; Ben simply chose for him, getting them both strawberry waffles, an old college favourite. As soon as the waitress was out of earshot, Riley began: "What are you talking about? I've seen the news - you've been America's new super-historian. Exhibits at the Archives, volunteer work with kids, research at Georgetown...you're living the dream."

Ben shook his head and looked away. "You don't get it, do you? Ribbon cutting, awards ceremonies; that was never my dream. Abigail's dream, yes, my father's at one time...but never mine."

"It must feel good, though," Riley reasoned. "The historical community finally respects you. Being a Gates means something. Isn't it validating to know that the work your family did is being recognized?"

"Sure. It's better than being called crazy, definitely." Ben paused and smiled. "But history wasn't made by men who sat around and patted themselves on the back. That's not who Thomas Gates was - or any of my ancestors. They were on the front lines of history, working and fighting for what they believed in. It's not about recognition at all. And my dream is to continue that passion, no matter what."

"You have to be proud of yourself, Ben. You don't have to be out there, searching for clues every minute. It's okay to celebrate what you've achieved."

"And I have - I am. But am I supposed to spend the rest of my life accumulating certificates and trophies? I know that there's something more, and it's killing me to run in place like this." Ben sighed, clearly frustrated.

"Well, have you talked to Abigail about it?" Riley got the impression that Ben was dumping several week's worth of thoughts onto him - he had to have been carrying the burden for a while.

"That's actually why I called you tonight." Ben looked slightly ashamed. "Abigail's loving all the positive attention, of course. It's great for the Archives, and I think she likes living with someone who isn't deemed insane by the entire historical community." He paused for a moment. "But she doesn't understand my drive to continue my family's work. So when Georgetown called yesterday, offering me a position as a history professor, she -"

Riley gaped, and couldn't manage to contain his excitement. "A professor at Georgetown? Holy crap, Ben. Congratulations."

Ben shot Riley a small smile. "Thank you. I know I should be happy about it, and Abigail's estatic. I just can't imagine spending the rest of my life studying and teaching the history that others have created, without ever having the chance to contribute to it myself."

"Ben, you already have! Two world-changing treasures aren't enough for you?" Riley grinned as his friend started to go on the defensive. "I'm joking, don't worry."

The waitress brought over their waffles, piled miles high with strawberries, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream. The two friends were silent for a few minutes as they dug in to a meal they'd shared countless times before.

"Just like after college," Ben mused as he swallowed a bite. "Abigail would kill me if she knew I was eating this; we've been gluten and sugar free for a month now."

Riley snorted, and Ben caught his eye. "Don't tell me you're still living off Nutella and pizza." The blush that warmed Riley's cheeks was enough of a response - both friends started laughing.

"You really haven't changed," Ben smiled. "It's been too long since I've seen you."

"I know," Riley said, attempting to steer the conversation away from their time apart. "So, are you taking the job at Georgetown?"

"That's what I wanted to discuss," Ben explained. "Abigail wants me to; she thinks it'd be perfect."

"And your dad?" Riley inquired.

"He thinks it's an amazing opportunity," Ben admitted. "And I can't argue with him. But I also can't imagine myself in a classroom for the next twenty years, lecturing every day. I don't mind doing the odd speech, but those are always about things I've seen and experienced, first hand. You know, historical sites I've visited, things my family discovered...I'm not ready to give all of that up. Call me crazy, but I want another one."

"Another what?" Riley asked, confused.

"Another treasure."

Before he knew what was happening, Riley realized that he'd dropped his fork and was allowing his mouth to hang open, unchewed waffle and all. "I definitely misheard you. I thought you said you wanted another treasure?"

"That's right." Ben laughed at Riley's shocked expression. "I want late nights and frustrating dead ends and manic calls to every historian who will pick up the phone. It's insanity, and I know that, but I want it."

"Ben, we discussed this!" Riley was frustrated now, unable to understand why his friend would go back on his word. "You said that you needed time with Abigail, to build a solid relationship. And that at some point you had to grow up - that you couldn't chase every clue you came across for the rest of your life. So you moved on, and did what you said you would, and so did I."

"But you must miss it," Ben reasoned. "You're developing software based on our treasure hunt. Surely, some part of you still wants that adventure."

"Some part of me?" Riley laughed sarcastically. "I miss it every second. The drama, the adrenaline rush, the insanity...all of it. And there were days when I'd have given anything to hear you say those words. But you were right, Ben. We can't do this forever, and it's stupid to try."

"Not forever." Ben grabbed Riley's hand, and met his eyes with a passionate sincerity. "I'm not ready to give this up yet. Maybe, if we can make another discovery, I can show Abigail that it's possible to keep a little adventure in my life. I can't force myself to choose between treasure hunting and the person I love...and if all else fails, we'll go out with a bang. If this is our last treasure, let's make it count."

Riley sighed. As much as he knew it was a bad decision, he couldn't walk away from the chance to spend a few weeks with his best friend. The treasure hunting could never last, and it was only a matter of time before Ben would have to accept the position at Georgetown, leaving Riley alone with his computer. But that day didn't have to be today, and maybe that was a gift. To have loved and lost...

"Okay." Riley spoke the word quietly at first, hesitantly, before allowing his features to break into a grin. "Okay. Let's do this. Let's find a third treasure."

"Are you sure?" Ben was asking the question, but his eyes confirmed that he'd already made up his mind.

"Completely." Riley felt a wave of happiness crash over him, combined with a sense of purpose and hope that he hadn't experienced in months. "What do you have so far? Where do we start?"

It was Ben's turn to blush. "The truth is...I don't really have anything yet. I'm going more on a feeling than any historic information."

Riley knew exactly what that felt like - to need something so badly that you make it real. After all Ben had done for him over the years, Riley owed him this chance. He'd have to let all of his reservations slide and welcome his friend back into his life, essentially throwing away the baby steps of progress he'd managed to make. But it was entirely worth it. If Ben needed a treasure, then Riley would make his dreams a reality.

"You know, I might be able to help." Riley watched Ben's eyes light up, illuminated by hope much like the city that morning, which had been awakened by the sun. "I have a list of unanswered questions throughout American history. And I'm not talking conspiracy theories here. These were oddities I came across while writing my book; irregularities so small that no one's even researched them enough to develop any possible explanations. It's not much, but-"

"It's perfect!" Ben grinned. "That's where we'll start. Can you meet me tomorrow?"

"Sure," Riley promised. "Just text me a time and a place."

Ben turned to Riley. "I'm sorry, I've got to run. Abigail and I are attending a benefit gala at the Smithsonian. But thank you, Riley, so much. For agreeing to meet me, for listening to me tonight, for the list...I just didn't know who else I could go to about this."

"It's fine," Riley assured his friend, internally cataloguing his roller coaster of emotions. "I'm happy to help. Try to have fun, okay?"

After a few more seconds of hurried goodbyes, Ben was rushing out the door to hail a cab. Riley remained seated at the booth, unsure of what to do with himself. So much had changed within the past few hours; he'd gone from shutting Ben out to welcoming him in. Riley was overwhelmed by the rush of feelings the meeting had brought on. And they had embarked on a one-way journey neither of them could go back from. They were treasure hunting once more. Whatever that meant - tracking down ancestors, translating ancient documents, breaking in to museums - they were in it together.

As Riley prepared to leave the diner, he paused to collect his jumbled thoughts. It might take days to sort everything out; he'd probably go over the conversation he'd shared with Ben a million times. But one thing was frighteningly, alarmingly clear: he was still madly in love with his best friend.


	2. Just A Boy (Chapter 2)

_Do you believe that there's treasures in the ocean?_

_You make me want to feel_

_Things I've never felt before_

_Did I say I'm just a boy?_

**- Just a Boy,** **Angus and Julia Stone**

It was 5 am, and Riley found himself sipping a latte next to his best friend at a Capitol Hill coffee shop. They were huddled in a corner booth, sharing a tiny table and pouring over Riley's laptop. The odd early riser popped in briefly, stopping for a muffin or doughnut on their way to work. Apart from that, though, the shop was nearly silent. Their only company consisted of a few fatigued students, likely pulling all nighters to finish overdue essays.

Riley felt as though he was one of them. The information he was researching could easily have been for a class, and the maps and notes Ben had brought along looked similar to course materials when spread out on the table. Save a few technicalities, they easily could have been back in college. He even felt the exhaustion and displayed the dark circles that had so often come with his and Ben's all-night study sessions; he hadn't slept in nearly 24 hours. After leaving the diner he'd gone home to unwind, only to get a call from a long-time client in Adams-Morgan. The 11 pm computer crash had made a mess of the man's online banking accounts, and had taken him over four hours to fix. A few sketchy bus rides later, he'd arrived back at his apartment building just after 3:30. Exhausted, he'd been sure nothing could get between him and his bed - until an overeager Ben had called, pleading for an early meeting. He had a packed schedule all day, and in order to avoid explaining things to Abigail before they had any concrete information, the situation necessitated a 4:30 am hunt for a clue.

Of course, Ben had had time to rest and recharge - power naps were his speciality, and he'd managed to squeeze one in after the benefit gala. His face showed no visible signs of fatigue; Riley supposed it was all a part of being a professional treasure hunter. He, on the other hand, was acutely aware of his puffy eyes and messy hair. He didn't even want to think about how rumpled his clothes were - probably worse than when he'd gone through an anti-ironing phase that had lasted throughout college.

Despite the adrenaline rush that always accompanied hurried meetings and desperate searching, Riley felt the effects of exhaustion on his mind as well as his body. He'd barely had time to process Ben's out of the blue phone call, let alone their meeting at the diner and promise to resume treasure hunting. And now he was seated next to his best friend, already wrapped up in what was proving to be an interesting search. The emotional roller coaster he'd been riding for last day was draining. Yet Ben's presence managed to keep him focused, grounded in the moment and intent on working on the task at hand. Riley promised himself that he'd act first and think later. He needed time to sort out his emotions surrounding the situation, and he was in no place to deal with them right now. He could always call off the treasure hunt after careful consideration, but putting a premature stop to it could permanently distance himself from his best friend.

"I wish you'd told me when you were going back to the Franklin Institute," Ben said between sips of black coffee. "I would've loved to have gone with you."

"You were still celebrating the Templar Treasure." Riley leaned away from the computer screen, pausing to savour his latte. "You were busy with your dad and Abigail. Besides, the book was an independent project. I didn't think you'd be interested."

"Are you kidding?" Ben looked taken aback. "Not interested in Benjamin Franklin?"

"Not interested in going with me," Riley explained. "Besides, half the stuff there was donated by your family. Can't you go anytime?"

"Of course," Ben replied. "I just don't get the chance very often."

"I'll make sure to report to you next time I attempt an unauthorized museum visit," Riley mumbled. Ben was silent, and Riley couldn't help but laugh at the sight of his concerned response. "Come on, you know I'm joking."

Ben's brow simply furrowed, sending his features into disarray. "Riley, you would tell me if I hurt you, right?"

Instinctively, Riley looked away, steeling his gaze towards the laptop's screen. His body tensed and his arms folded in a poorly concealed attempt to protect his feelings. There was no way he could allow Ben to know what he'd been through; how could he explain that the same circumstances that led his friend to fame and success had nearly destroyed him? That the unparalleled, all-encompassing longing Ben had experienced for adventure could easily be compared to the profound sense of emptiness Riley had felt after his departure? Ben could never know that for Riley, a life without his best friend was nothing - half full, with appearances kept up for others, but simply devoid of meaning or joy. Ben couldn't understand that without him, no matter where Riley went, no matter who he met or what he accomplished, he'd always be damaged - a part of him lost forever in the black hole he'd carry around, a void created by the absence of his best friend.

"Yeah, definitely." Riley attempted his best reassuring smile. "I'm fine though."

"Okay," Ben seemed to accept Riley's words, clearly relieved. "I'm sorry if I haven't been - the past few months have been difficult. I just want you to know that I wasn't distant because of you."

"Of course," Riley nodded, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. "I know that. I don't blame you, either. It made sense to both of us."

"Alright; as long as we agree." Ben paused for a moment. "So take me back through this Benjamin Franklin clue one more time. Start at the beginning."

"Okay, sure," Riley mumbled. As much as he enjoyed sharing Ben's company, he couldn't deny that his friend's undivided attention made him nervous. Trying not to stammer, he continued: "We were at the after-party for one of our Templar Treasure speaking engagements - it was the one in Dublin, I think, at that ancient museum Abigail was obsessed with. You were with her, talking to reporters, and I was just kind of wandering around. Anyway, they had this special display of privately owned and previously unknown letters from Benjamin Franklin's family, assembled in the years after his death. There was one that - I think it was written by Elizabeth Franklin Bache, his grand-daughter. She was writing to her son, Andrew; he would have been Benjamin's great-grandson, and at the time of the letter, he'd just left to join the navy. Anyway, the letter mentioned something about keeping his family's secrets close to his heart. Honestly, I doubt I would have read it if I hadn't been dying of boredom. I don't think anyone really paid the exhibit much attention - other than historians, not many people are interested in Benjamin Franklin's entire family tree-"

Riley laughed as Ben opened his mouth to speak. "And don't say that you are, because I already know that, and you don't count."

Ben held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Continue."

"So, yeah, I wasn't looking for it or anything. But it reminded me of a letter found in Benjamin Franklin's study after he died, addressed to his daughter, Sarah. And he told her to keep his love and his secrets close to her heart. The word choice was weird; what are chances that they'd both say the same thing if it wasn't somehow related? Anyway, I did a bit of digging at the Franklin Institute and found out that a locket was reportedly left to Sarah as part of Benjamin's will. It was said to contain information leading to documents and artefacts that he'd hidden, for fear that they might get into the wrong hands. No one ever found it though, or saw it again. I got this crazy idea that both letters might be talking about the locket - what else would you literally keep close to your heart? Maybe Sarah passed it to her daughter Elizabeth, who then passed it on to Andrew. But a lot of people have looked into it, so I decided that I'd file it away as a historical legend and move on. At the time, I was working on my book, so I was really only interested in conspiracy theories with some concrete evidence."

"Hmm," Ben seemed to be concentrating deeply, withdrawing into his mind to access the wealth of information no doubt stored there. "I definitely think it's worth looking into. We need to find out everything that we possibly can about Elizabeth's son; that's a good place to start."

"His life is a huge historical question mark," Riley sighed. "All I can get us right now is that he died in 1884 in Marion, Massachusetts. I don't know if that means anything to you, but it doesn't exactly give us the location of the locket. If, you know, there's even information hidden inside it that hasn't been lost or destroyed by now."

"A clue is a clue," Ben smiled, looking more alive than he had in months, despite the fact that he was running on just a few hours of sleep and a cup of coffee. There was nothing like historical info to entice a member of the Gates family. "This is a real possibility. Where there are questions, there's answers - and sometimes answers come in the form of treasure."

"Whatever you say, Ben," Riley mumbled, drooping a little in his seat. He was exhausted and quickly losing his resolve to pour over ancestral records and birth certificates. The only thing keeping him going was the presence of his friend next to him, comfortably close as they shared a small seat on the same side of a cosy booth. Between the warm temperature of the coffee shop, his sweet latte, and the smell of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls mixed with Ben's old camping coat (which he wore whenever he was in pursuit of a treasure), Riley felt himself loosing the battle against fatigue. He began to lean in towards Ben, allowing himself to rest lightly against his friend's shoulder.

Ben chuckled. "Look, Riley, you should go home. Get some sleep, and we'll take another look at this when neither of us are in danger of falling asleep in public."

In Riley's mental war between the urge to cuddle up against Ben's coat amidst the warmth and comfort, and the embarrassment of allowing anyone to see even a glimpse of his feelings, insecurity won out. With a sigh, he pried himself away from Ben and straightened up, cheeks blushing a bright rose.

"Seriously, it's fine," Ben assured him, helping Riley to gather his things off the table. "Go. We'll meet later."

"That won't give Abigail the right to kill you?" Riley smirked. "We all know how she's going to react when she finds out we're chasing the ghost of a clue."

Ben shrugged. "That just means we'll have to work hard enough to find something real to show her."

That was so typical Ben - he couldn't be dishonest even when it would make things easier for all parties involved. Telling a little white lie about what he and Riley were doing obviously hadn't even crossed his mind. He relied on what he believed to be true above all else - it always seemed to be his compass, guiding him through difficult situations. No matter what Ben faced, Riley knew he'd never find him without good intentions and a crazy dream.

"Alright, I'm going." Riley rose from the booth with visible fatigue, grabbing his shoulder bag and laptop. "I think you may be on to something with the sleep thing. We'll both think better when we're not this tired."

Ben eyed Riley warily. "Let me buy you a cab, alright? You can't take the bus; you'll fall asleep and miss your stop."

"I'll be fine," Riley mumbled, moving to leave.

Ben caught his arm as he tried to walk away. "I'm serious. Here. I know you won't pay for it yourself." He stuffed a 20 dollar bill into Riley's hand. "Hey, by the way, what happened to your red van - and where's the Ferrari?"

Riley laughed. "I sold the Ferrari when I moved out of the house in Georgetown. It never really felt like mine, you know? I was never comfortable in it. The van's parked in my building's underground parking. I don't take it out for running errands and daily stuff; the subway and buses are faster in rush-hour traffic."

"You were always a little weird," Ben rolled his eyes as he shot Riley a goofy half-smile. "Promise me you'll take the cab? I don't want to worry about you on the bus."

Riley was a little taken aback. "Worry about me?"

"Someone might steal your laptop if you pass out," Ben reasoned.

"Oh, right." Riley shuffled his bag to the other shoulder. "Yeah, I'll take the cab; thanks. Text me when you're ready to meet again?"

"You bet," Ben smiled, turning to read a newspaper as Riley started to walk towards the door. Before he left, he glanced back at the coffee shop: his best friend looked completely contented, the world made right by the inclusion of a possible treasure. He stood apart from the students without looking out of place; he simply appeared to be the most approachable of the early morning crowd. Even the news briefs he was reading, no doubt depressing, couldn't dull Ben's unignorable glow. It was the kind of happiness that came with having everything you could ever need.

As he stood outside, Riley tried to tell himself that he was a part of that reality, and of Ben's happiness. Without him, treasure hunting would be impossible. But he knew in his heart that that just wasn't true. There were a million Ians out there, just waiting to get in on a project with someone as prolific as Benjamin Gates. There were other tech guys, other computer programmers - better ones, probably. No, he couldn't lie to himself; the only reason he'd been chosen by Ben was because of their history, and the fact that his friend had probably suspected that he still had notes on unexplored historical concepts that hadn't ended up in his book.

He tried to shake off Ben's words: "I don't want to worry about you". If he'd been so worried, where had he been for the past few months? Sighing, Riley immediately reprimanded himself for the thought. His and Ben's time apart had been mutually agreed upon. It was incredibly unfair to expect his friend to see through his words and actions to his real feelings, especially when he'd done everything in his power to hide them.

Riley climbed into a cab, mumbling his address to the driver. He rested his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to soothe his headache and calm his erratic emotions. It wasn't Ben's fault that Riley's entire life had been their relationship, or that he was an empty shell without the purpose Ben's belief gave him. Maybe the stakes were higher now that he knew what his life looked like without treasure hunting, filled with re-lived memories and painful bouts of overthinking. Before his time apart from Ben, there had always been the option of walking away and building his own identity, his own dream. Now, it was obvious that Ben's dreams and his own were forever intertwined, at least on his part. He didn't recognize himself without that friendship; it was the driving force behind everything he did, even when Ben was nowhere to be found.

By the time the cab pulled up at Riley's apartment complex, he was nodding off again. He peeled himself from the seat and exited the car, handing the driver Ben's money. It'd been a nice gesture on the part of his friend, who obviously knew all too well that he'd never waste his own cash on a cab.

The driver looked at Riley's exhausted face sympathetically. "You look like you've been through a lot, man."

Riley laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, all within the past day. It's been crazy."

"Well, keep you head up, alright?" The driver shot him a reassuring smile before speeding away.

Riley entered the faded lobby of his building and pushed the button for the elevator. He thought about the man's words: Keep your head up. That was really all he could do now; he had no choice. However insane Ben made him, however draining his emotions became, it was too late to turn back. It had been for some time, forever maybe. His only option was to accept his feelings and move forward with as much courage and grace as possible. And even though the past day had made him question his sanity, it'd been his favourite day in months. If he had to be wrapped up in the emotional mess that Ben created, if there was no getting off this roller coaster of sleep deprivation and complex feelings...then he might as well enjoy the ride.

Riley slept for a solid 13 hours. He had allowed absolutely nothing to get in his way - before collapsing on the futon, he'd closed the curtains, turned off the lights, set his phone to vibrate, and collected enough blankets to form a decent sleep cocoon. He woke up peacefully just after 8 pm, the apartment blessedly quiet and free of the loud alarms which usually ended Riley's naps rudely.

Brushing his overgrown bangs out of his eyes, he rose from bed with a yawn. He immediately parted the curtains, initially a little disoriented by the image of a million golden lights illuminating an otherwise dark city. His mind was awash with the confusion that usually accompanies a long nap during the day. Checking his alarm clock, he realized that it was well past late afternoon.

So Riley did what any normal 20-something living in a crappy apartment without a steady job would do: he ordered in pizza and prepared himself for a long night of TV. Yet as he waited for the delivery man while flipping between channels, his mind began to wander. He tried to process the coffee shop meeting he'd had with Ben that morning, going over exactly what he'd presented about Benjamin Franklin, and the ideas that his friend had added to the puzzle. Riley knew that if they had any chance of finding the locket, they'd have to acquire more information about Andrew Harwood, Benjamin's great-grandson, and any children or close relatives he might have had.

The problem was, Andrew hadn't been very prolific. He hadn't led a mysterious life - his whole career had been dedicated to the Navy - and the only historical research that had been done was minimal. Riley considered what they knew for sure: born in 1802 in Pennsylvania, died in 1884 in Marion, Massachusetts. He'd had a long life, with plenty of time to construct a will and a means of passing on the family locket...why then, was it so difficult to piece together his life and legacy?

Since he and Ben were interested in who he'd given the locket to, Pennsylvania didn't seem like the place to start. So, the answers must lie in Marion, a tiny town with less than 5,000 people...could one of them be a descendant of Benjamin Franklin?

Just then, the buzzer rang, prompting Riley to get up and allow the delivery man to come up to his apartment. Once he'd payed for the extra large veggie pizza, he sat at his makeshift kitchen table, deep in thought. He turned off the TV to allow for complete silence. It wasn't often that Riley found himself in such a pensive mood; his thoughts usually stemmed from surface feelings and external inspiration. But today he could sense that he was on to something.

Nearly inhaling the pizza two slices at a time, he continued thinking. All signs seemed to point to the fact that Andrew hadn't had any children. While that wasn't good for the treasure hunt, it seemed to be an unavoidable truth that they'd eventually have to accept. Yet that didn't have to mean that the locket was lost. Everyone had someone that they trusted, whether it be a niece, cousin, half-sibling, or close friend. If Andrew had given the locket to a member of his extended family, it was entirely possible that they'd have a different last name.

In a moment of inspiration, Riley had the idea to check online housing records in Massachusetts from the 1880's. It was possible that there was a link between the house Andrew had lived in and the person he gave the locket to. Typing furiously, it didn't take Riley long to locate the information, and he felt like an idiot for not having done it sooner. Sure enough, he was able to find a property owned by Andrew Harwood, who had lived in Marion during his retirement. Trying hard to control his excitement, Riley researched further: the house had officially been given to a man named Joseph Fielding following court proceedings that verified Andrew's will in 1885. With a quick Google search, Riley confirmed that while there was no direct link between Andrew and Joseph, Andrew had served with Joseph's father, Edward, in the Navy until his death in an accident.

Riley felt like jumping up and down. Was it possible that it'd really been that easy to locate someone who might know where the locket had ended up? He fought the urge to call Ben immediately, telling himself that he needed more concrete evidence to back up his findings.

Jubilantly, he decided that he could simply trace the ownership of the house to locate the children and relatives of Joseph Fielding. Then suddenly, everything became more complicated: records indicated that Joseph had sold the house just a year after acquiring it, and the new owner had abandoned it following a severe storm that left it damaged. Years later, the remainder of the house had been torn down.

Riley was back to square one. The house records proved nothing - even if Andrew had passed the locket on to Joseph Fielding, how could he and Ben ever trace his family tree well enough to figure out who he'd given it to? There were simply too many possibilities. Sighing, Riley allowed himself to admit the thought that lurks in the back of every treasure hunter's mind: maybe nothing was ever there. The wording in two separate letters, sent years apart, was a sad basis for a clue. He'd been so desperate to help Ben, to get some part of his best friend back...

In a last-ditch attempt to console himself with new information, he looked up the town of Marion on Google Maps, browsing through the images of a pretty main street. All of the shops had the same old-fashioned look, giving Riley the impression that he'd somehow been taken back in time. It truly was a beautiful little town. There was a hairdresser, a dress shop, and a quaint, yet slightly run down hardware store. It was the kind of family-owned business that had been popular in the '60s and '70s, but had been nearly driven to extinction by large department stores. Riley felt sorry for the owners as he noticed the peeling green paint, crumbling front steps, and faded sign.

He moved to click away from the little store when something caught his eye. The faded sign...he could just barely make it out, but there it was: Fielding's Hardware. Riley felt his heart skip a beat. It wasn't much, but this could be the only way to locate Joseph Fielding's family. This was the last surviving connection between Andrew Harwood and the present day. It didn't prove anything, but it was enough.

Immediately, Riley researched and dialled the telephone number of the Hardware store, only to find that it'd been disconnected. It had probably gone out of business, but the images on Google Maps proved that it had been open not too long ago. There was a chance that the store was still being packed up or on the market to be sold.

Invigorated, nothing could curb Riley's enthusiasm. Unable to contain himself, he decided to skip the call to Ben and simply drive to his house. Ignoring the clock which displayed a time of 9:41, he rushed out the door, neglecting to bring so much as a jacket. He impatiently rode the elevator down to the basement level, filled with underground parking for the building's tenants. There was no time for buses, subways, or cabs - he was going to break out the van.

It was past 10 pm when Riley finally made it to Ben's Chevy Chase neighbourhood. His bright red van was an alien amongst the black BMWs and shiny silver Mercedes of the high-end Maryland community. It was the kind of place Riley avoided whenever he could. Naturally, his shaggy hairstyle, college student wardrobe, and love of fast food assured that he didn't fit in. Unlike Ben, who was just as comfortable grabbing breakfast at Dunkin Donuts as hosting a poolside party in the backyard of his sprawling property, Riley preferred to stick to situations and places he knew well. He'd tried numerous times to adapt himself to the ranks of the upper class, but it always felt fake and rehearsed. He'd much prefer his run-down apartment to any of the mansions he drove past on the way to Ben's place.

Riley arrived at the ornate gate to Ben's home, scanning his key card to let himself in. He laughed to himself as he remembered Abigail's protests upon finding out that Ben had given him his own card - not because she didn't want him to have one, but because she feared he'd drop it in the elevator or lose it on the bus. She was probably right; the only reason Riley had managed to keep it this long was because it'd been sitting in his dresser drawer for months.

He awkwardly drove the large van up the winding driveway, parking just outside of the 4-car garage. As he approached the front door, he took in the sprawling garden, expertly landscaped and complete with a small pond. The house itself was massive - five beautiful floors with high ceilings and large windows. He knew that each piece of furniture had been specially selected for the Gates-Chase home; every single item had historical significance, some even dating back to the 1500s. The walls featured preserved documents and letters, and paintings by America's finest artists - Riley knew that Ben even owned works by people like Benjamin West and Gilbert Stuart, famous for their depictions of classical American history. Of course, none of that would have been possible without Abigail's connections at the National Archives, which allowed her first access to the very best pieces going to auction.

Still enthusiastic, but now feeling the intimidation that Ben's house always inflicted upon him, Riley rang the doorbell, which had been recommissioned from a piece of metal used in a canon during the Revolutionary War. Within a few moments, Ben answered the door, wearing one of his usual upscale-casual outfits that he reserved for use only inside his home.

"Riley? What are you doing here?"

Riley blushed. "Don't act so surprised, I know you saw me on the security camera."

"Of course," Ben frowned. "But that still doesn't answer my question."

"Well, I've got some good news!" Riley grinned, beaming at his friend.

"That's great." Ben still hadn't opened the door the whole way. "What is it?"

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Riley asked, feeling a little hurt.

A voice came from somewhere inside the house: "Honey, who is it?"

"She going to find out," Ben sighed. "It's too late now. Come in."

Riley walked into the gorgeous entrance hall, lit by a breathtaking chandelier which had once hung in the White House. Abigail was gracefully walking downstairs, dressed in black lounge pants and a draped white cardigan which Riley guessed probably cost more than his monthly rent.

"We were going to have to tell her anyway," Riley whispered to Ben. "Don't worry, I found something real."

"Riley!" Abigail greeted him warmly as she entered the hallway. "What a surprise! It's so late for a visit - are you alright?"

"Yeah, no worries. It's no big deal."

"Well it's so nice to see you!"

"You too," Riley smiled back genuinely. "It's been too long."

As much reason as he had to dislike Abigail, Riley had come to view her as a real friend. While they'd started out on rocky footing when she'd broken up his and Ben's two-man treasure hunting team, he'd gotten to know her over the years. She was incredibly talented, driven, and ambitious. Add that to her breathtaking beauty and love of history, and it was only natural that Ben had fallen for her. While she was Riley's polar opposite in many ways - reputations and appearances meant everything to her, and she was just as good at DC politics as she was at document conservation - they also had a few things in common. Their mutual love for Ben (even while Riley's was kept secret) managed to unite them in unexpected ways. They had a special kind of unspoken respect for each other after working together on so many occasions. Abigail seemed to view Riley as Ben's best friend - messy at times, unconventional maybe - but certainly necessary, able to support her boyfriend when no one else could, and talented in his own ways. Riley knew that Abigail was the person Ben had chosen to love, and because of that, he wanted nothing but the best for her. She could be intimidating, curt, and driven by status - but she was also elegant, extremely intelligent, and the love of his best friend's life. While they disagreed on a lot, they'd always care about each other.

As she leaned in to give him a hug, Riley recalled the first time they'd met - at the National Archives, when Ben had been looking for someone to help protect the Declaration of Independence. He'd seen her - gorgeous, smart, clearly into history - but his eyes had automatically turned to Ben, to gauge his reaction. He'd seen the intrigue there, the way he was impressed by her before she'd even said anything. Ben had been gazing at Abigail in the way Riley had always longed to be seen. He'd known, in that moment, that everything had been about to change.

Expertly avoiding the potentially awkward questions of Riley's long absence from her home, Abigail continued: "So, what are you boys up to?"

A knowing look passed between Riley and Ben before Ben sighed, laughed, and gave in. "Alright, let's all sit down. I think everyone has some explaining to do."

After thirty minutes in one of Ben's more casual living rooms, they'd managed to explain that they were searching for a new treasure, and had found a pretty good clue. Because he knew that Ben could never lie, even slightly, Riley switched up the narrative a little; instead of letting Abigail in on the fact that Ben had come to him, he explained that he'd called Ben, bored of the computer repair business and looking for a new adventure. Abigail seemed to buy it, slightly annoyed that Ben had been dragged into another potential treasure hunt, but relieved that it was Riley who had initiated it. Riley then went into detail, explaining his findings and how time was of the essence if they were going to try to communicate with the Fielding family via the hardware store.

"Wow," Ben seemed to think aloud, then turned towards the others. "I'm really proud of you, Riley. That was excellent treasure hunting - it could have taken me weeks."

"Uh- thanks," Riley mumbled, just as embarrassed by praise as usual. Inside, however, he was glowing.

Unsurprisingly, Abigail seemed concerned. "Ben, it just worries me that you were up so early; it's not good for you. If this is what treasure hunting means to you, I'm not sure how I can support you on this. You have other jobs now, guest lecturing, speaking engagements, exhibition launches...I don't want you to sacrifice that for something that might not exist."

Ben moved from the armchair he'd been sitting in to join Abigail on an upholstered love seat. He took her hand in his, and gently lifted her chin so she could meet his eyes. "I promise you that nothing matters more to me than us, or our life together. That's always going to come first, alright?"

Abigail nodded, clearly charmed by Ben's honesty and genuine love.

He continued, wrapping her into a warm embrace: "I'm going to be careful, and I'm going to be smart about this. I'll limit the late nights and early mornings as much as possible. But this means a lot to me - to Riley, as well - and I think there's a way to do it where we're all happy."

"Okay, you win," Abigail whispered, reaching up to kiss Ben lightly on his cheek. "This time, anyway."

As Abigail continued discussing the specifics of Ben's treasure hunting arrangement, Riley felt his eyes glaze over and his mind wander. As much as he wanted to be happy, and celebrate not only the fact that Abigail was on board, but that he had been behind the break that led to a clue, he couldn't ignore a voice that seemed to be screaming from the back of his mind: _You'll never have that_. He watched Ben across the room, radiating confidence and kindness, and couldn't ignore his longing to simply be around him. Of course, Abigail looked perfect at Ben's side, seated elegantly next to him and basking in his light.

_ That will never be you. You're the best friend, the one who makes excuses for him so that he can impress his girlfriend. You're on the sidelines, in the crowd, but never in the game. _

He tried to quiet his subconscious, realizing that agonizing over what he didn't have was simply self-inflicted torture. No one owned him anything - he was lucky to be friends with Ben, to be accepted by Abigail. And who would he be without his best friend? His life would be meaningless. All of his favourite memories were from treasure hunts. What kind of idiot lucks out the way he had, and still wants more?

Shaking his head, he forced himself to come back to reality. At least he had a place in Ben's life, however minimal. He might never be a real player in the game, but he was the luckiest guy in the world just to have a seat on the bench.

"So," Ben beamed, and in his smile Riley saw everything he needed. It was the kind of smile you had to sit back and witness, filled with familiar comfort and glowing warmth. "It looks like we're going on a roadtrip."

"I'd better get you packed before it gets too late," Abigail rolled her eyes as she rose from the couch, but paused to shoot Ben a sweet smile. As she left the room, she mouthed the words: "You're impossible."

Ben laughed, turning again to Riley. "This is shaping up to be an old fashioned, Gates-Poole treasure hunt."

Nothing could stop the genuine happiness that Riley found in Ben's expression, and his face broke into a smile. "Next stop: Marion, Massachusetts."

"Thanks to you," Ben reminded him, and Riley allowed himself to accept the compliment. "I'd better make a few calls to free my schedule for the next couple of days. Do you want me to rent us a car ? We can even take the BMW, if you'd like."

Riley shook his head, grinning. "You said this was an old fashioned treasure hunt, right?"

"Yes..." Ben was suddenly wary.

"Then you got yourself into this one, Ben. In fact, I've got it right here, in the driveway and ready to go."

"Riley...?"

"We're taking the van."


	3. A Drop In The Ocean (Chapter 3)

New England as the leaves change,

The last excuse that I'll claim;

Just a drop in the ocean,

A change in the weather,

I was praying that you and me might end up together.

- **A Drop In The Ocean, Ron Pope**

At the first sign of sunrise, Ben grabbed his overnight bag, as well as several stacks of books, and headed outside to load up Riley's van for their journey. Riley wasn't far behind, struggling under the weight of the gigantic picnic basket of food Abigail had packed. As soon as they made it out to Ben's long, tree-lined driveway, Riley heard Abigail calling out from the doorway.

"Please tell me you boys aren't seriously considering taking that...vehicle."

Ben gave Riley a knowing look, as if to say _I told you so_. Riley just rolled his eyes and attempted to assure Abigail that his van was perfectly safe. "I've driven it for years, and it's always worked fine."

Abigail, still dressed in her lounge pants and draped sweater from the night before, moved from her perch in the doorway to investigate for herself. "But how will it look when you two arrive in a beat up -"

Seemingly sensing what was to come, Ben cut her off. "I've seen this van withstand car chases, a cracked wind-shield...there was even the time somebody backed into it and crushed the hood."

Riley laughed, remembering fondly an accident outside of Ben's college apartment that had been anything but funny at the time. Back then, he'd been a scared freshman student, desperately trying to scrape together the funds for the necessary auto repairs. Refusing Ben's offers to help, he'd driven around for weeks with a hood that looked like it had been on the receiving end of angry bashes from a baseball bat.

Lost in his memories, Riley hadn't noticed Ben walk over to Abigail. His arms were wrapped around her as he leaned in closely; a comforting gesture. Riley felt like a third wheel as he overheard their conversation, spoken in hushed tones:

"Ben, I'm worried."

"I know you are, and I'm not going to shut you out on this -"

"Georgetown called yesterday, you know. Again."

"And they've given me time to think this through and consider my options."

"What other options are worth discussing? This is what we've been talking about, Ben. This is the future we decided on. Please don't put me through what happened last time -"

"I'm not going to. You're included in this, okay? Nothing matters more to me than the life we have together."

"I believe you. I just don't understand why you want to run away when everything we've worked for is right in front of us."

"This is a temporary detour, Abigail. I'm coming home in a couple of days."

"I'm excited for you, and I know what this means to Riley. But please...Ben, don't play pretend with him forever. I'll be fine on my own until you get back, but then we need to have a discussion about the future."

"Absolutely. Thank you for understanding why I need to do this."

"Of course. I love you."

"I love you too."

Riley turned away from the couple, attempting to regain composure. Around Ben, it often felt like he was fighting against time, trying in vain to reclaim the connection they'd shared in the past. It had been so simple back then. Now, the present was messy. Ben was in a committed relationship and had actual responsibilities. Life no longer corresponded to the simple equation Riley had thought he'd figured out. When they had had a clue, things had been exhilarating, and when they hadn't, they'd simply worked harder. The math no longer applied, though; with Abigail came an entirely new set of variables that Riley couldn't make sense of, no matter how hard he tried.

Ben finished loading the van, stacking the suitcases neatly. Their precise arrangement contrasted with everything else inside Riley's vehicle; seemingly endless wires stretched across every inch of floor space, computer and television monitors were piled haphazardly in a corner, and empty pizza boxes were littered throughout the van, collecting dust.

"This is exactly as I remember it," Ben mused, shutting the folding back doors.

Riley gave Abigail a friendly hug goodbye, remembering to thank her for packing an extra overnight bag for him (composed mainly of items he'd left in the guest room, which Riley was surprised to learn that Ben had kept), as well as preparing plenty of food for their 8-hour drive to Massachusetts.

As he climbed into the tattered driver's seat, he heard Ben's loving goodbyes to his girlfriend, as well as what he assumed was a kiss; he looked away, not wanting to see. After a final wave to Abigail, Ben bounded into the seat next to Riley, full of his characteristic determination and infectious energy.

Guided by his friend's patient instructions, Riley attempted to back the van gracefully out of Ben's long driveway. Unfortunately, the combination of the van's sticky brakes and Riley's jerky driving resulted in the destruction of several perfectly-landscaped flower beds, which Riley apologized profusely for. Ben simply laughed in the seat next to him; apparently the novelty of his friend's antics hadn't yet worn off.

The pair took off quickly into the rising sun, rushing past the immaculate mansions of Ben's Chevy Chase neighbours as they made their way to the Interstate. Ben had stressed the importance of an early start to their journey; they planned to arrive in Marion that afternoon, where they would head to the hardware store to begin looking for clues. There was no time to lose, as Ben had to be back in DC as soon as possible.

As they began to approach the highway, Riley found himself lost in thought. What were the chances that Benjamin Franklin had really left behind a locket, let alone one that they were able to locate? What would Ben do if they somehow hit a dead-end? Riley hated the thought that he might give up on treasure hunting entirely, but he knew it was a very real possibility. If he was being honest with himself, the entire concept of a third treasure felt elusive, as though they were reaching for something that simply wasn't there.

Then again, no one outside of the Gates family had believed in the Templar Treasure for more than 30 years. He and Ben had spent his entire 4-year college career in search of it, without any outside help. The project had seemed desolate at times, and the trail had run cold. Yet Ben hadn't given up; even when called delusional by several prominent historians, he'd had faith in his family's heritage and beliefs. On top of that, Ben had provided Riley with a safe place to go, where he truly belonged and mattered. Without his friend's acceptance, Riley would have spent all of his years at MIT utterly alone. If there was anything he could do to help with Ben's most recent treasure hunting venture, then Riley certainly owed him that much.

As the van picked up speed, they travelled north along an open stretch of smooth highway. Despite everything, Riley felt himself relax. The early morning light was giving way to a gorgeous late-October day, complete with a calm, powder blue sky and a crisp autumn chill that was just cool enough to make the inside of the van feel cosy.

Ben, who had previously been absorbed in one of his many Benjamin Franklin biographies, looked up from the book. "Riley, how did you manage to afford the repairs for your van?"

Riley was taken by surprise. "What?"

"Back in college," Ben explained. "After the hood was crushed."

Riley shot his friend an incredulous look. "You're still thinking about that?"

"College, yeah," Ben admitted. "Whenever I come back to Massachusetts, I have to reminisce about MIT."

Riley blushed. "I worked as a subject for a freshman portrait class."

Ben was stunned into an amused silence, then laughed. "You're kidding." When Riley didn't respond, he pressed further. "Somewhere out there, sitting in the back of a first-year classroom, 20 messy sketches of you are waiting to be discovered?"

"Yup," Riley was blushing even more deeply, but he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face as he noticed Ben's incredulous expression. "I needed the money."

"I would have helped you out."

"Of course," Riley reasoned. "But I wanted to do it on my own, no matter how bad things got."

"Things were never that bad, though, yeah?" Ben looked suddenly concerned.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Riley was defensive.

"You always had the necessities. Enough food, decent clothes, a place to live."

"Is that really what you thought?" The note of contempt in Riley's voice was poorly concealed.

Ben fell silent for a few moments as Riley continued to guide the van north along the Interstate. Eventually he said, "I knew you had issues with money, of course. We were students. We all did. But I never thought it went past that."

Riley sighed deeply, wondering whether to share such an intimate part of his past. "I know, Ben. I can't exactly get mad at you for not noticing; I mean, I tried pretty hard to cover it up. The truth is," he paused, steeled his nerves, and then continued: "during college, I lived in my van for months before we got our apartment. I didn't always have the money for food. Yeah, I hid it well, but it was hard."

"Riley..." Ben was uncharacteristically speechless, his features twisted in worry.

"You don't have to say anything. It was difficult, but I made it through, and I'm probably better today because of it." Riley looked away from his friend, wishing to deflect the questions that he knew were about to come.

"If money was so tight, why did you volunteer to work on the treasure for so long? Why did you sacrifice so...much? If I'd known you were struggling - "

"Ben, shut up. The treasure was my life. It was everything. And truthfully, it was the best part of my day, every day. It gave my life purpose. I'm not going to regret a second of it."

"But you gave up the chance to find an actual job to help out a complete stranger! A stranger who, at the time, was regarded as crazy by most of the historical community."

Riley laughed. "What can I say? I knew you were one of the good guys. I believed in you."

For the second time that day, Ben seemed stunned. When he finally appeared to process everything fully, he reached out and squeezed Riley's hand. "I'm sorry I never thanked you."

Although Riley managed to maintain his outward composure, he felt as though his heart might burst. He had waited years to hear those words, to get the validation he so longed for. Hearing Ben acknowledge his sacrifices, even in a small way, meant everything to him. Still, somehow nothing major had changed. He'd let Ben in a little more, of course, but there remained so much that his best friend didn't know.

Riley was an island, a one-man show. He'd done everything for himself, by himself, for as long as he could remember. Help was not something he accepted easily, even when he acknowledged that he might need it. He kept his emotions private, living in constant fear of being judged or becoming an even bigger outcast. At the same time, he still allowed himself to be vulnerable to the words and actions of others, especially those of the people he loved. As much as he tried to protect himself, he wore his heart permanently on his sleeve.

"Riley," Ben was glancing at the GPS. "We'll be passing through up-state New York; somewhere around Albany, I think. Should we make a detour? My grandfather lived there for a few years, and he never stopped talking about how beautiful the colours were in autumn."

"Yeah, sure," Riley smiled, immensely enjoying the road trip, even though it was clouded by his hurricane of emotions.

Next to him, Ben plugged his phone into the van's dust-covered speakers. "Music?"

Riley nodded; Ben immediately chose a complicated classical piece that happened to be one of Abigail's favourites.

"Come on," Riley gave his friend a judgemental look. "No instrumental music in my van."

"Fine," Ben surrendered without protest. "Is John Mayer okay?"

Riley's face displayed an expression of pure disgust. "Put on Jamestown Revival."

"I can only make so many allowances," Ben laughed. "Josh Groban?"

"Who are you?" Riley reached over to touch Ben's forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

Ben rolled his eyes. "Bon Iver, then."

"I don't see what you have against pre-2009 pop -"

"One Republic.

"American Authors."

"Anything from a Disney movie."

"I do have something from one of his earlier films, actually." As Riley glanced over at Ben, he noticed an unmistakable look on his friend's face. Ben was about to depart on what Riley liked to refer to as a _historical tangent_. "You know," Ben was saying, his features set in a serious expression, "if you look at the context - early 1940's - many historians believe that it was a coded message to a soldier in World War Two..."

As Ben continued, Riley racked his brain endlessly for an escape strategy. "City and Colour!" He blurted out the name of the first artist he could think of who rested in neutral musical territory between the two friends, a tumultuous area that was constantly in flux.

The suggestion seemed to appease Ben, who ended his history lesson and turned his attention to the list of songs on his iPhone.

"Hey, maybe you _should_ teach at Georgetown," Riley grinned. "You're good at lectures."

Ben raised his eyebrows, looking prepared to defend himself. Yet as Riley braced for another speech about the importance of discussing historical concepts, he noticed his friend's face fall ever so slightly. Riley thought he detected a nearly inaudible sigh.

"Ben?" Riley's voice was hesitant, unsure of his place in the complicated situation.

"I like teaching," Ben confessed, shaking his head. "It's the perfect chance to influence the next generation; to make sure that the passion my family instilled in me gets passed on. But this is what I'm in love with," Ben held up his hands and gestured around them both. "Some part of me thinks I can't give it up because of my grandfather, like I'm scared to lose him. It's ridiculous."

Riley recalled what his friend had told him years ago, while playing chess on the balcony of the apartment they'd shared near MIT. Prior to that night, Riley had only known the public version of the Gates family story. He'd heard Ben tell it countless times; the heroic tale of Thomas Gates, who had been given a secret clue by Charles Carroll, sparking the family legacy of determined treasure-hunters. Yet Riley knew that Ben's passion for history ran much deeper than an interesting family tree. It was intensely personal; his grandfather, John Adams Gates, had died of cancer when Ben was very young. The last evening they'd spent together had consisted of several rainy hours in the Gates family attic, a fact which Ben always omitted when speaking publicly at museum exhibitions and ribbon-cutting ceremonies. Knowing that he was dying, John had passed on his life's ambition of treasure hunting to his grandson through his passion for history. That night, Ben had promised to keep the Gates family legacy alive, and it was obvious that he worked daily to uphold his vow. In a way, as long as Ben kept searching for treasure, Riley knew that his grandfather would always be with him.

"Ben, that makes perfect sense to me." Riley empathized with his friend more than he could ever say. "You want to hang onto that. I get it."

"There's more to the last night with my grandfather than you know..." Ben trailed off, clearly unsure how to continue.

Riley said nothing; he simply waited for his friend to find the right words. At last, Ben began: "He knew that it was his last chance to tell me the story. He wanted to visit me again, but my dad wouldn't let him. My grandfather lived for three months after that night, Riley. Dad kept us apart. Besides the obvious reason of not wanting me to see him deteriorate, Dad was worried that my grandfather was a bad influence. He knew what treasure hunting had done to him; he was terrified that the same thing would happen to me."

Riley found himself looking away, recalling the stories of Patrick's post-divorce downward spiral of depression and alcoholism that Ben had told him in strict confidence. As painful as it must have been for Ben's grandfather, Riley knew that Patrick's burden must have been greater still. After the collapse of his marriage, Patrick had suffered for years. It made sense that he would have wanted a different future for his son.

"We talked about it," Ben continued. "He regrets it, and I forgive him. I just...I can't give this up. In our final moments, my grandfather chose to pass on treasure hunting. It was his entire world." Ben paused, then whispered quietly, as though he was speaking to himself. "If you only had hours left with someone you love, what would say?" Ben shook his head, as though he was attempting to clear the question from his mind.

It was Riley's turn to sit in dazed silence. He tried to process everything that Ben was telling him. For a person who had been through so much, Ben was incredibly accomplished. Riley knew that luck had nothing to do with it; his resilience and generosity ensured that he avoided the pitfalls of so many treasure hunters before him, allowing him to be the Gates family member that discovered the treasure at last.

Ben's ability to bounce back from both disappointments and defeats was something that Riley greatly admired. Despite his struggles, Ben appeared unscathed by life's evils. No matter what he endured, he always came out of it just as he'd always been - optimistic, determined, shiny and new. Riley was visibly broken and bruised in comparison. He bore every scratch from his battles with the curve-balls he'd been thrown. Worse still were his scars from the inner conflicts which weighed perpetually on his mind, like a giant storm cloud hanging over his head.

As they continued driving along the highway in a mutually pensive silence, Riley considered Ben's seemingly rhetorical question. What _would _he say? He tried to imagine having only moments left with his friend. Would it be too late to say I love you? What was the point, when no matter what Ben said in return, tragedy followed? No, Riley decided. He wouldn't want his final hours with Ben to be about unrequited love; it was too narcissistic, too much about himself and his personal feelings. Instead, he realized that he would simply tell Ben how wonderful it was to know him, to be in his presence, to have the incredible honour of being his best friend.

Eventually, Riley insisted on digging into Abigail's carefully packaged snack bag, and both he and Ben devoured the turkey and pesto sandwiches, slices of brie paired with green grapes, and home-made chocolate mousse truffles. The meal was a little out of Riley's dietary comfort zone, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. No one could argue that Abigail wasn't a talented chef.

The further north that they drove, the more spectacular the scenery became. Riley quickly became transfixed by the magnificent New England autumn. The trees formed a colourful canopy above, exploding in bursts of fiery auburn, dazzling amber, and Irish green. The sky overhead was piercingly clear; the shade of powder blue created the perfect backdrop for nature's seasonal display. The sun hadn't yet reached its peak, and the world was bathed in the morning's breathtaking golden glow. Leaves of rich burgundy and burnt orange danced elegantly in the fall breeze, eventually coming to rest along the forest floor. It was an October scene borrowed from a picturesque postcard; Riley couldn't recall ever experiencing a day so beautiful.

The familiarity of driving was peaceful, and Riley found himself feeling uncharacteristically calm, even optimistic. As Ben lectured leisurely in the seat beside him, pausing occasionally to read aloud from his Benjamin Franklin biography, Riley experienced a sense of comfort that he rarely allowed himself to enjoy. _This_, exactly this, was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Just him and Ben against the world, with thousands of years of history behind them and endless possibilities ahead.

In a mixture of pleasant conversation, gas station stops to refuel, inside jokes, and bathroom breaks, the hours passed by. Morning gave way to afternoon, the sun growing brighter in the sky above. Just after 2 pm., Riley and Ben found themselves passing through Albany, New York.

Taking in the brilliant autumnal scenery, they took a detour through a small farming area, pausing to stop at a local farmer's market. There, they drank hot cider and grabbed some candy apples and caramel popcorn. Everything about the trip was a love letter to fall; even Riley's plaid scarf, thrown quickly over a brown blazer that morning, seemed to fit the mood perfectly.

"Let's stay here," Ben mused as they climbed back into the van. "We'll live on a farm and grow our own apples. I can see it - I'll drive a tractor through the fields during the day, and curl up with a book by the fireplace in the evening."

Riley was astounded; it wasn't like Ben to fantasize, especially about a rural farm with a perennial autumn. "Are you sure the fresh air isn't going to your head?"

Lost in his thoughts, Ben didn't even register Riley's words. "Can't you just _feel_ the history here? There's something timeless about this place."

Riley nodded, understanding. The falling leaves and abundant nature reminded him of an earlier, simpler time. Although spring was usually regarded as the season of fresh starts, Riley had always viewed autumn as a sort of beginning; somehow, endings always brought about change.

They continued travelling throughout the countryside, taking everything in. Ben told stories of people he'd met during the past few months, while Riley listened, wide-eyed. While he had always believed in his friend, it was strange to think of Ben as someone who was vitally important to so many people within his field. Riley had hoped that the day would someday come where Ben was recognized for his accomplishments, but he had always pictured himself there as well, standing by his best friend's side.

As they arrived in Massachusetts and began to head towards the small town of Marion, the roads grew more narrow and they passed through several tiny residential communities. From the van windows, Riley spotted a gorgeous, historic church, surrounded by tall, brightly-coloured trees and accented by long, winding vines. Briefly, he wondered if Ben could be right; maybe they _shouldn't _go home. Of course, it was a crazy idea. Ben would have to head back eventually - Abigail and his parents, amongst others, would be waiting for him to return. But Riley really could vanish; pack up his things, leave behind his apartment, and start over in a quaint New England village.

As appealing as it was, Riley knew that he wasn't strong enough to do it. He'd grown up in DC, and it was his home. He liked his apartment, despite its obvious shabbiness. And he was a fool to believe that he'd ever belong somewhere Ben wasn't.

Next to him, Ben, lit up and animated, was launching into a new story. Riley sat back in the tattered driver's seat, reveling in his friend's presence. It was unlike Riley to tune out Ben's words, but he found himself unable to concentrate on what he was saying. Instead, Riley was caught up in his friend's closeness, the familiar sound of Ben's laugh, and the fierce determination with which he spoke. Ben's ocean blue eyes were alight with constant curiosity, with a passion Riley was just coming to understand...

"Hey!" Ben's sudden exclamation startled Riley, causing him to jump. "Brake!"

Frantically, Riley slammed on the van's ancient, sticky brakes just in time to avoid running a red light across a tiny, otherwise empty intersection.

Ben gazed at him in disbelief. "What happened?"

"I spaced out," Riley admitted, looking down to avoid Ben's stare.

"Are you-?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he promised. When that didn't seem to appease Ben, Riley continued: "I think I'm just tired from driving all day."

Ben quickly checked the van's GPS, which Riley had designed and installed himself. "We're five minutes outside Marion."

The friends decided that once they arrived, they would head straight to their hotel room; Abigail had booked accommodations at the local Holiday Inn that morning. Once they had the chance to freshen up and unpack the toiletries from their overnight bags, the next stop would be Fielding's Hardware Store, where they hoped to meet a familial descendent who might have information regarding Benjamin Franklin's hidden locket.

At last, after more than eight hours of driving, they reached Marion. It looked exactly like what Riley had seen in his quick Google Earth search; a long, old-fashioned main street seemed to run parallel to vintage shops with decorated store fronts. The residential streets which surrounded it featured older, historic homes. Each house had a manicured, landscaped lawn, while outside nearly every one, an American flag flew proudly. It was the perfect example of a quaint, quiet small town.

The Holiday Inn turned out to be situated along the outskirts, near a more modern, industrial area. Ben checked them in, while Riley clumsily carried their bags inside from the van. As he waited for Ben to finish at the check-in desk, he caught sight of his reflection in a lobby mirror. He looked scruffy, to say the least; his corduroy blazer was wrinkled from the long car ride, his hair was more askew than usual, and bags were starting to appear underneath his eyes. Embarrassed, he was immediately grateful that they'd reached their destination.

While messy hair and tired skin usually weren't things Riley worried about, he certainly didn't want to look like a mess in front of Ben. As soon as his friend had unlocked the door to their hotel room, Riley was running across it, making a mad dash for the shower. The last thing he saw before he shut the bathroom door was Ben, stretched out on the right-side bed, clearly exhausted and already beginning to close his eyes.

When Riley stepped out of the bathroom, his wet hair dripping water over his clean t-shirt, he felt infinitely more refreshed. Ben looked as though he'd caught a power nap and was alert once more, sitting in the armchair by the window as he talked on his cellphone. Riley pointed to the Submariner watch that Ben wore constantly on his wrist; it was already after 5 pm.

Ben was attempting to finish his conversation with Abigail, but Riley wasn't giving up. He continued to make hand gestures towards the door until Ben surrendered, settling for a quick goodbye.

"Riley, you were in the shower -"

"And now I'm out," Riley countered, grabbing his friend's arm. "Come on, it's time to go."

"Hold on," Ben held up a hand. "These people have no idea who we are. We can't just waltz in and expect information on a family heirloom."

"I did interviews for my book, you know, which you would have remembered if you'd actually _read_ it."

Ben looked up innocently. "I did."

Riley was startled. "When?"

"Three months ago," Ben confessed. "It was excellent. Well done; you should be proud."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Ben's features betrayed a slight grimace. "We weren't talking at the time."

"Right. Yeah. I'm glad you like it. Especially that chapter on-"

"D.B. Cooper? Yeah," Ben enthused. "I knew you got most of your information from my Dad's collection."

Riley blushed, grinning. "At least he hasn't donated that to the Franklin Institute too."

Ben rolled his eyes and laughed; Patrick would always be a little bit impossible. "_Yet_."

"So, what did Abigaaaaaiiill say?"

The look that appeared on Ben's face was the opposite of what Riley was expecting. His expression seemed worried, even pained. "She's...concerned."

"What did she mean this morning when she was talking about not wanting to go through what happened last time?" Riley knew that he needed to tread lightly to respect Ben's feelings, but his curiosity won out.

Sighing, Ben began: "This isn't the first time a university has offered me a job. Do you remember a few months after the Templar treasure, when we broke up? Yale called. I turned them down without asking Abigail, and she told me to pack my things."

Riley suddenly understood. "So those arguments in London about leaving her out of your decisions..."

"Exactly," Ben confirmed. "It wasn't malicious. It was instinct. I didn't want it, so I said no."

To Riley, who had known his friend for the past eight years, this made perfect sense. Ben was honest to a fault; he didn't even think to factor politics into his decisions. Of course, that became a problem in relationships, when the other person's feelings and desires had to be considered as well. To Abigail, a position at Georgetown or Yale must have seemed like the perfect way to settle down. But Ben's mind, as complex and brilliant as it was, remained undeniably straightforward; he'd still been interested in treasure hunting, so teaching simply wasn't an option he considered.

Looking to cheer Ben up, Riley grabbed his hand once more. "Come on," he insisted. "There's a whole world of treasure waiting out there."

Riley's heart soared as Ben managed a small, yet genuine smile. "Alright." He gave in, following Riley out of the hotel room and into the elevator. It was time to visit the hardware store, in an attempt to track down the descendants of Joseph Fielding, a man who may have possessed the key to a magnificent treasure hidden by none other than Benjamin Franklin.

"What do we say to this family, provided they still exist?" Riley raised his eyebrows and looked up at Ben for guidance.

The optimistic, determined version of Ben that Riley knew so well had returned. "We tell them that they could single-handedly be responsible for the discovery of one of the greatest, most historically influential treasures of all time."

"And if that doesn't work?" Riley was incredulous.

Ben shrugged, an expression of determination spreading across his face. "We stole the Declaration of Independence using nothing more than lemon juice, a laptop, and a nice tux."

"So, in other words?"

Ben's light-hearted laugh was infectious, and Riley found himself smiling along with his best friend. "We'll think of something."


End file.
